Creation
by Fiction-stalker supreme
Summary: Harry takes on building his own galaxy and his own Creations. Drabble. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

AN: Yeah, this is my take on what it would be like being God. A wiki walk got me to this point.

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Creation

At first there was nothing.

Nothing. It was sort of an odd thing to think about and it seemed sort of self-contradictory in Harry's opinion. There was already so much around him that the more apt thing to say would be: At first there was a lack of nothing.

For one an endless darkness stretched out in front, beside and behind him. It was chilling. Literally. Harry would have wrapped his arms around himself but it had become second nature of the membrane around him to vary the temperature so he always felt toasty. For another, there was a seemingly endless amount of space. What to do with that space, Harry hadn't yet decided, but first he needed to do something with all this darkness.

And then there was light.

Harry winced but even as he closed his eyes the light broke through his eyelids. His eyes charred and regrew only to be seared off once more. _Merlin's beard_, Harry thought._ How_ _about a few ground rules. The first being you can't pass through solid objects. But you can bounce off them proportional to how the stand in space._ The light faded and through his closed eyes Harry saw nothing. He opened his eyes, conjuring a pair of shades. He could see a thing the moment they were put on.

_That's not right_, Harry thought, and so he went about giving light rules—the rules he remembered when he had learnt physics, of course making loopholes for magic. There wasn't a passage of time, Harry noticed. He wasn't sure how long he had spent giving his instructions to light—his first creation, a star that shone of an intense burgundy light that stood three times Harry's size.

_So I should give you a name I guess_, the wizard…well that wasn't true anymore was it? Yes it would be true that he was only a wizard when he ventured to the universes of others—he already made plans to travel the multiverse further—but he was not just a god, but a God, second in power to the much Older Gods. Certainly God who had given him this slate.

He frowned and ran a hand at his chin. _Why be original?_ Already he had been to a plethora of universes and through them things were basically the same with the difference being who looked over them.

_**Nova. **__As a good a name as any in my opinion. _

The star didn't react. Of course not, it was a star. But Harry didn't like that. He decided to give it both sentience and sapiens, which he did with nothing but a thought.

**I am Nova,** it said in a voice a deep rumble even with how young it was.

_Yes, yes you are. I'm Harry Potter. How about I go teaching you how to create others in your own image? _

It was the hardest thing to explain, which meant it was certainly odd when no time passed at all between the first and last lesson between Harry and Nova. It was at the end, when already space was filled with many of Nova's descendants that Harry realised he had yet to create time.

And so it was.

Time that moved forward and brought all things to their natural end. Harry created its personification. Tempus. He would watch over it and police it. None would move back and if one would did—such things were conceivable after all—he would be the one with the power to make sure things happened as they should have, and if not, so that the difference could never be told apart. No paradoxes and such. His universe would not be destroyed. Tempus would be the first defence.

The stars flourished. Stretching out to distances Harry had to look to see. But with each instance that time passed their numbers grew. Nova had taught them to procreate and soon Harry could see there would no longer be any space. Tempus did his part. Seven eternities had passed and Nova was the first to fall and seven eternities later so were the first of his generation. But Tempus' decay worked too slow and so the first Destroyer came to mind.

It was large, spanning such a distance that within the first few years it drew within itself that many were lost. Harry felt heartache at the many pleas he receive at their last dying breaths—figure of speech, it was something Harry couldn't change (He could but then again that was too much effort)—but he knew this had to be done. He still had plans for this universe. He still had planets to build, others beings (others who would have to learn to be so powerful) to create.

But this too eventually had to die—Harry had not taught it to make others in the fear that they overtake the stars and bring back the eternal darkness. Instead he cursed the first of his creations to turn bad. (Harry had not yet been aware, but subconsciously he had created twins: Good and Bad. They were silent and formless. Whispering truths into all of Harry's creations and letting them choose which they wanted to do. Together Harry decided to call them Consciousness. He told Tempus that so long as there was a sentient being these two would exist.) He cursed the first and all others who would follow in his path to endure the torment of devouring their own kin for countable eternities until the second death claimed them.

It was then that Harry started creating worlds. His first was sapient and sentient—it was a default setting at this stage that everything have some degree of rational thought. Harry let out a sigh, but for the life of him he couldn't think to smite his first planet. He placed it within it its own galaxy, made it a mate—Harry had stopped time (which Tempus did not appreciate, it being the first time anyone had ever done so) trying to think of how he would the specifics would work—they would have children, but they would have to stay within their own galaxy. He put a Destroyer to guard that none left.

His second attempt, third and countless others were not too successful. Too much, too little, no water—he was still experimenting with atoms, memory could only go so far and thinking of making new ones and telling them what they could and couldn't do took a long time—not the right acidity. Harry knew if he spoke it would Be, but there was a certain charm in thinking of small thing being responsible for the big things and so forth and so on. In this vein many galaxies were born.

The first planet Harry made that could bare life was mostly made of ocean. The ocean was a deadly liquid that surely wasn't water, thus its first inhabitants were large creatures with many tentacles, though he made them more animal than sentient. He populated the seas, giving them the veracity that had become the norm of his home planet.

The next was a lot like earth, only the sky was a brilliant shade of magenta for some reason. This he filled with an immense amount of plant life and creatures to scurry through its many crevices. The planted was smaller than earth had been however and therefore the creatures were remarkable short and stubby.

The third tossed physics out the window. Nothing made sense and Harry liked it. It looked much like a children's book; bright threes orange trees that stretched into the sky and mountains that should not have been overlooked by gravity. But then again there was a loophole on this planet when it came to such. He left it be. No one would step foot in it, his little work of art.

Planet after planet was formed until Harry grew tired. He watched for a while as his creatures grew in intellect to match the stars, but time was daunting and Harry wanted back the constraints of another's universe. He wanted to be able to live and die. He wanted the thrill of having to fight—he made sure not to think of war yet, but the way he had made the universe and its rules it would be soon to come.

He created Life and Death. They were a couple. They would have omniscience. They would be able to look to the past and to the future and shape the creatures to come, how long they would live before they died. Other personifications started cropping out as time passed. Personifications that were much like good and bad. Love was one of the first Harry noticed. It dwelled mainly with the sentient planets. Those who would choose their one true mates and stay with them until they died. Hate also cropped up. It told Harry that it was older than even love, having been born of the many who loathed the Destroyers. It did not have much power, but with each passing instance Harry could almost feel it growing stronger. But he decided not to act.

"Why?" asked Tempus. He and Harry sat in a palace outside of time. Tempus had created it, saying he found it better to work when he didn't hear the constant ticking—Harry found this strange because he hadn't yet thought of a clock.

"Free will," said Harry. "It's one of the few things I don't want to touch. I want living beings, not puppets. Puppets aren't fun. They only do what you expect. I need spontaneity. When I come back. I want to see change."

Tempus looked worried. "Is it strange that I don't want you to leave?" he asked and Harry smiled.

"Not at all," he said. "You're one of my first creations, Tempus. The one the will feel the most every second that I am away."

"I feel…"

"Sadness," Harry said looking both at Tempus and at the new Personification that stood beside him looking forlorn.

"Hello, Father," it said.

An eternity passed and Harry looked at all his creations. He stood over them all. This would be the last time he would see them in a very long time. He had to find his first. He had to bring them together.

Harry pictured his destination firmly in mind: A land with witches and wizard.

It did not do much but he liked the gesture. He turned on the spot.


End file.
